The Tale Goes Ever On
by Elf Eye
Summary: Characters from 'The Nameless One Series'. Even when you think the story is over, it may not be.


**Folks, here is the promised 'nappy' tale. It contains references to several prior episodes. Good luck on ferreting them out! As for the story told by Boromir, it was inspired by an incident in an English novel published in the eighteenth century. Kudos to the readers who recognize the name of this early novel!  
  
Beta Reader: Dragonfly  
**

**The Tale Goes Ever On**

Why, oh, why had he meddled with that well? He had been drawn to it by curiosity and had dropped a pebble into it merely to satisfy himself as to its depth. How could he have known that the splash of a pebble would be such a loud noise against the stillness that was Moria? And now Gandalf was furious with him. Pippin would not soon forget the furious glance that the wizard had shot him from underneath his bristling eyebrows. "Throw yourself in next time, and then you will be no further nuisance!" the Istar had snapped angrily.

Pippin sat leaning miserably against a wall as the company took a break from its trek through the dark corridors of Khazad-dûm. Aragorn was talking softly with Boromir. Gimli stood aloof, gripping an axe in his hands as if he were prepared to ward off an enemy at any minute. Gandalf was lost in his thoughts. Pippin's fellow Halflings had flung themselves down in exhaustion, and Pippin did not want to trouble them with conversation. He felt utterly alone.

Alone he may have been, but not unmarked. Legolas was watching him keenly. The Elf was well acquainted with the wizard's moods. He knew that the Istar could flare up and utter a mighty rebuke but nonetheless feel an undiminished affection for the target of his wrath. Poor Pippin! The Halfling did not know the wizard as well as Legolas, and the Elf grieved for him. Gandalf had spoken kindly to the young Hobbit the very same night that he had dropped the pebble in the well, but still Pippin seemed depressed. Legolas cast about for a way to comfort the Halfling. All four of the Periannath seemed to delight in music, and Legolas settled upon that as a means of cheering Pippin. He would sing, he decided.

Legolas sang softly, so as not to awake any perils that might dwell in that place. Yet soft as he sang, he entranced the Hobbits, who crept nearer until Legolas sat in a semicircle of Halflings. He broke off the song.

"I have in mind a story," he murmured. "Would you like to hear it?"

"Oh, yes!" exclaimed the Hobbits in a whisper.

Gandalf was immersed in his thoughts and paid Legolas no mind. Aragorn, Boromir, and Gimli, however, drew near so that they, too, might hear the story.

"Shall it have dragons in it?" asked Sam.

"No dragons, but it will have a wizard and an elleth."

"A wizard?" said Pippin nervously. "I do not think I want to hear any stories about wizards just now."

"Do not be afraid," Legolas reassured him. "This wizard is not a fearsome creature—not in this incarnation, anyway."

Merry put a comforting arm around Pippin, and Legolas began to speak in his soft, melodious voice.

"This wizard was a wanderer, as wizards are wont to be. Many a wearisome journey he took throughout Middle-earth. There were several places, however, to which he could repair when his charge became too burdensome. One of these was a Great Hall hidden deep within a forest. A most unusual hall this was, for, instead of being erected upon the face of the earth, it was dolven into the ground. Now amongst the subjects who dwelt in this Hall was a clever and sensible elleth who had devoted her entire life to assuring the comfort of her fellow creatures."

Aragorn was smirking now.

"Upon a time, the wizard was staying at this Hall," continued Legolas. "Now, sad to say, at times this wizard could be stubborn and irascible. So it was on this occasion. He rejected out of hand the kindly elleth's ministrations. In fact, he set a spell upon the door to his chamber so that she could not enter. For all his wisdom, this wizard could be extraordinarily foolish from time to time."

Pippin was smiling happily at the thought of a foolish wizard. Encouraged, Legolas went on.

"The wizard was congratulating himself on his cleverness—until he tried to leave the room. He uttered an unlocking charm and pushed upon the door, but it would not open."

Pippin giggled.

"At first he was not troubled by his failure, for he knew many unlocking charms and believed he had merely recited the wrong one. He uttered another. And another. And another. For hours he recited charms and pushed upon the door, but it would not be budged."

Pippin was smiling broadly.

"At last he heard a voice from the other side of the door. 'Do you need any help?' asked the elleth. The wizard confessed that he was trapped, and she advised him to utter the magic word. The wizard, of course, was indignant, and he informed her that he had been doing nothing but muttering magic words for the past several hours. She calmly replied that he had not yet said 'the' magic word. He racked his brains, wondering what magic word he could have possibly forgotten. At last the truth dawned upon him, and he blurted out the word 'saes', which is elven for 'please'. Now when he pushed upon the door, it swung open."

Pippin and the other Hobbits breathed out an "Aaaah" and nodded their heads wisely. They had suspected that this would be the solution to the wizard's dilemma, for they had been taught to use this selfsame magic word from the moment that they had first begun to speak.

"Legolas," asked Pippin, his curiosity restored, "how is it that the elleth knew more about magic than the wizard?"

"She had a magic of her own, Pippin, although it was not the same sort of magic as the wizard's. It was compounded of kindness and cleverness. She had borrowed a wedge from a carpenter and had used it to block the door. Since the door swung outward, the harder the wizard pushed upon the door, the more firmly it was wedged shut. Once the wizard had learned his lesson, she merely pulled out the wedge, thus liberating the wizard."

"Ooooh," gasped the Hobbits, who were suitably impressed. "That _was_ clever!"

"Indeed it was," agreed Legolas. "And it shows that even the most powerful wizard should not give way to pride. A person whose appearance is humble may yet show greater wisdom than a wizard—or greater compassion."

Suddenly Gandalf towered above the little gathering. A shaft of light shot up from his staff before the crystal that surmounted it subsided into the soft glow that had guided them this far through the maze that was Moria.

"So," he said, his voice soft but dangerous, "you are sharing tales. I have one. Would you like to hear it?"

No one would have dared to say 'no'. Gandalf grinned wickedly.

"Very well. Now this tale is set in the same forest as Legolas was speaking of, but it took place in a cottage rather than the Great Hall."

Legolas already looked worried.

"It happened that one day a wizard passed by this cottage and asked leave to spend the night. The wise elleth who dwelled there with an infant elfling welcomed him with great kindness. No doubt she recognized the wizard's great worth!"

"No doubt," said Aragorn dryly. "And she has been recognizing it ever since!"

Gandalf scowled at the Ranger, who subsided meekly.

"Now at this time the strawberries were at their most delectable, and the elleth wished to gather some. Knowing of the wizard's diligence and wisdom, she delegated to him the care of the infant. The wizard, in his humanity, condescended to accept the responsibility for this miniscule being, and I must say that he acquitted himself nobly. The infant, however, was not so well behaved. Even though he had already messed his nappies several times that day, he proceeded to do so again—and most foully, I might add! The wizard, however, was not one to sidestep his duties, and he tended to the needs of the odoriferous elfling. He consoled himself, however, by telling himself that, if said elfling, when an Elf, were ever to be cheeky, he could look him in the eye"—here Gandalf gazed straight at Legolas—"and say, 'Do not forget, young sir, that once I had to change your nappies!'"

Even in the dim light the Hobbits could see that Legolas was blushing. They fought to stifle their giggles. Gimli gloated, and Boromir and Aragorn both shook with suppressed laughter. Soon, however, Legolas recovered.

"I believe," he announced, "that there was more to this tale. I have heard it said that before the elleth entrusted the elfling to the wizard, she gave him a lesson on how to change nappies. This wizard, who was festooned with a long, tangled beard, failed to keep said beard out of the line of fire and thus ended up with dripping whiskers."

The Hobbits were biting upon their fingers, and Gimli was chewing on his beard. As for Boromir, tears were rolling down his face. Aragorn was bent over so that his face could not be seen, but his shoulders heaved spasmodically.

"So," growled Gandalf, "you would requite my tale. Well, as you have told a tale that was told you by another, I shall do likewise. I have it on very good authority that once upon a time, whilst an elfling was swimming, his clothes were stolen by two of his companions. He was forced to walk back to his home in his natal garment. Along the way, to avoid being seen naked by an elleth, he crawled into an abandoned badger hole—and became wedged. He had to be dug out before all the inhabitants of his Hall!"

Now Aragorn could not suppress his chortles.

"_You_ should laugh, Aragorn," said Legolas, miffed. "I could tell a few tales about you, I hope you know."

"Oh, please do," begged the Hobbits as one.

"Yes," grinned Boromir, "I should like to hear a tale about Aragorn."

Legolas shot a triumphant look at the Ranger, who pretended to be unconcerned.

"When Aragorn was little," Legolas began, "he disliked bathing."

Gandalf snorted.

"_When_ he was little! When he was _little_!"

Aragorn was moved to protest.

"Really, Gandalf, I am not as grubby as I was formerly!"

Gandalf stared pointedly up and down the person of the Ranger, from his tangled hair to his mud-stained boots. Once again, Aragorn subsided meekly. Legolas resumed his tale.

"Now it happened that Aragorn was visiting the same Great Hall that I told of before, where dwelt that elleth who was always desirous of looking after the comfort of others. Seeing that the lad was filthy, she laid on a bath for him. The scamp ran off to hide, however, choosing the deepest darkest dungeon for his refuge."

"My father has told me of those deep, dark dungeons," growled Gimli.

"Whilst in the dungeon," Legolas continued, "he entered a cell wherein a hole had been dug in the floor. He wondered how far the hole went, crawled in, and promptly became as stuck as the elfling had been in his badger hole. At last his shrieks summoned help. So wedged was he, however, that it took the good offices of Dwarves to free him. Messengers were dispatched to Lake-town to fetch some of these delvers, and they painstakingly dug until they were able to pull forth the lad without harming him."

"Ah hah!" crowed Gimli triumphantly. "Dwarves saved the day!" He turned to Aragorn. "I have heard this tale before, but I did not realize that _you_ were the lad spoken of!" He chortled gleefully, his eyes gleaming.

"Well," retorted Aragorn, "I have heard a tale regarding _you_! Shall I tell it?" he asked, turning to the other members of the fellowship. "Yes! Yes!" came back a chorus of whispered cries. Aragorn grinned.

"I happen to know that Legolas and Gimli had met even before the time they encountered each other at the Council of Elrond."

Now it was Gimli's turn to look alarmed.

"They first laid eyes upon each other on a dock at Lake-town. They got into a, ah, vigorous discussion. Our Gimli here was standing with his back to the water, gesticulating rather forcefully. Happens he began to teeter on the edge of the dock. Legolas leaned forward and grabbed his—"

"Don't go there!" interrupted Gimli, glowering.

"—grabbed his person, but Gimli let out a shout, startling Legolas, who let go his hold. Of course that resulted in Gimli toppling over into the water, and Legolas had to dive in and rescue him."

Gandalf let out a guffaw and then tried unsuccessfully to disguise it by clearing his throat. This failed maneuver drew Gimli's attention to him.

"Hmmph," the Dwarf snorted, "is there any truth to the rumor, Master Gandalf, that you were once seen running about in a _mauve_ robe?"

"I was driven to it by necessity," Gandalf replied with great dignity. "My own robe had been shredded in an engagement with the enemy, and I was forced to borrow a robe on that occasion."

"An engagement with the enemy, you say," grinned Legolas. "That wouldn't be the time you backed into a Mirkwood spider web, would it? A sticky situation that turned out to be!"

"It was not," Gandalf shot back. "By the way, Legolas, I don't believe I have ever gotten around to congratulating you on how well your hair grew back after you set it afire meddling with my fireworks."

Legolas blushed for the second time. Pippin and Merry exchanged delighted glances. So they were not the only personages to have run afoul of Gandalf's fireworks!

Boromir cleared his throat. The company looked expectantly at him.

"Gandalf has visited Minas Tirith on several occasions. There was one time—"

"Boromir," warned Gandalf, "I have known you from when you were little. Are you sure you want to tell any tales about _me_?"

Boromir considered, but before he could answer, Frodo yawned. Of all the Fellowship, he tended to tire first, no doubt both because of the effect of the wound he had suffered at Weathertop and because of the evil influence of the Ring.

"The Ringbearer is tired," Gandalf said promptly. "We should rest now. Boromir, as you seemed so lively a minute ago, _you_ may take the first watch."

Boromir grinned good-naturedly.

"Very well. But later, when we are all better rested, I assure you that I shall tell you folks that tale about our friend here."

Legolas winked at Pippin, whose beaming face and sparkling eyes were all the evidence needed that the Hobbit had been restored to cheerfulness.

As the company lay at its ease, Legolas' keen elven hearing overheard a whispered conversation between Pippin and Merry.

"Won't it be grand," Pippin said softly, "to be able to sit at leisure and hear all the tales that could be told by each and every member of the company?"

"Oh, yes," enthused Merry. "I am especially looking forward to Boromir's tale, but more for what it will show us about Boromir than about Gandalf. He has told us so little about himself, and I want to know more."

"I as well," agreed Pippin. "Well, once we are through Moria, perhaps Gandalf will permit us to rest for a few days, and we will get our wish."

One day later, a weeping Pippin lay on the hard rocks outside Moria as Merry tried to comfort him. Boromir clutched at Gimli, who raged at the loss of the wizard with whom he had sparred ever since they had left Rivendell. A stunned Frodo wandered aimlessly across the harsh landscape. Aragorn, suddenly thrust into the leadership of a diminished Fellowship, tried to control his heaving emotions by cleaning his sword of the Orc blood that stained it. As for Legolas, his face smudged with dirt, soot, and blood, he stood dazed, his face a mask of incredulity and bewilderment, his eyes unable to take in the scene before him, his mind unable to comprehend it.

"His story is over," he kept repeating to himself in disbelief. "His story is over. No, that can't be so. His story can't be over! Not our Gandalf's story. That could never be over. No, it can't be true. No!"

Aragorn's voice broke through his grief and confusion.

"Legolas! Gimli! Get them up!"

Mechanically, Legolas turned and moved toward the nearest member of the Fellowship. "This is what Mithrandir would want," he reminded himself. "He would want us to go on. We must. If we go on, his story will not end. His story will _not_ end. Never! We won't let it! He _cannot_ die if we do not give in!"

On the last night of the Fellowship's stay in Lothlórien, a wistful Pippin timidly asked Boromir if he wouldn't tell his story about Gandalf. At first Boromir did not wish to, but the Hobbits looked at him so hopefully that he relented.

"Now he's gone, it seems rather a disrespectful story," he warned them. "Do not be angry with me once I have told it!"

"We won't," the Hobbits promised.

"As you know," Boromir began, "it was hard to separate Gandalf from his pipe."

Nods all around.

"He even smoked his pipe in the library of Minas Tirith, which was filled with loose papers and bits of parchment, any one of which, if set alight, could have kindled a conflagration. Now I have it on my brother's authority—Faramir was forever dogging Gandalf's steps—that one day the inevitable happened: a spark from Gandalf's pipe set a sheaf of papers burning. Trying to be helpful, Faramir seized Gandalf's goblet of wine and dashed it upon the fire, but the wine was of a rather strong vintage, and attempting to douse the flames with it actually worsened matters. My brother made for the door, meaning to fetch a bucket of water. Of course, by the time he would have returned, no doubt it would have been too late to save the library. However, Gandalf, thinking quickly, pulled out his, well, he pulled out his—his tool! Yes, his tool, and he doused the flames. Said he to young Faramir, 'No need to fetch water when it is to hand'."

Howling with laughter, four Hobbits rolled on the moss beneath the mellyrn of Lothlórien. Elves walking nearby stopped and looked upon them with astonishment.

"When it is to hand," gasped Sam, tears in his eyes. "Oh, that is Gandalf all over!"

"Funny!" shouted Merry.

"Punny!" screamed Pippin.

"Nothing could keep him down," giggled Frodo.

"Nothing," agreed all the others.

"There was never an occasion when he was daunted or dismayed," observed Sam, in a burst of eloquence.

"Indeed," said Boromir thoughtfully, "I am certain that even at the end, Gandalf made things very hot for that Balrog."

"Oh, yes," agreed Frodo. "I'm sure that the creature rued the day that he decided to take on Gandalf the Grey."

"But now Gandalf is no more," said Pippin mournfully, his sorrow reasserting itself.

"That's not true," said Sam stoutly. "Legolas told me Gandalf cannot die as long as we tell our stories about him. If we forget about him, he's gone for good. Well, I for one don't mean to forget about him!"

He turned to Frodo.

"Do you remember how he kept banging his head on the ceiling beams? You would have thought that he would learn eventually, but he never did!"

"True," laughed Frodo, "and do you remember how he simply wouldn't bend to fit into the bed in the guest chamber, so that he always slept with his feet sticking off the end? Wore his boots to bed on several especially cold nights, he did!"

Soon everyone was cheerfully telling wizard tales. Funny Gandalf. Kind Gandalf. Stubborn Gandalf. Wise Gandalf. Brave Gandalf. They told stories throughout the night, until the dawn arrived and they made ready to depart.

"Odd. It _does_ feel as if Gandalf were still with us," said Pippin as they stood by the boats in which they would float down the Anduin. His companions all nodded.

"Legolas was right," declared Sam. "I believe that we haven't lost him at all!"

Miles away upon the peak of a snowy mountain, a figure lay on his back, his open but empty eyes looking up at the stars. The heavens began to whisper.

"I believe. I believe. I believe."

Life stirred in the clouded orbs. The figure blinked. His eyes came into focus. Slowly he turned his head and looked about him.

"Wretched place for a nap," he said, more than a trifle befuddled.

Groaning, he sat up and then looked down at himself.

"No clothes. Not good."

He looked about. Far in the distance he saw a speck in the air. As he watched, it grew larger until he could make out the shape of an enormous bird.

"Very large eagle, I should say."

Soon Gwaihir the Wind Lord had swooped down and settled himself upon a rock jutting out from the snow.

"I must say, Gandalf, you do manage to get yourself into the most interesting predicaments."

"Gandalf?"

"That means nothing to you?"

Gandalf shook his head.

"Mithrandir then?"

"Sounds vaguely familiar, but can't quite place it."

"Well, just for convenience, I shall call you Mithrandir, if you wouldn't mind."

"No, don't mind at all. Must be called something. You don't suppose that you could convey me from this place? I am rather cold."

"I have been sent for that very reason by the Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel. I will bear you straight away to Lothlórien."

"How very nice. Do I know these people?"

Gwaihir rolled his eyes. "The once and future wizard," he muttered. "Well, I was warned that he wouldn't be altogether himself when I found him. Now I understand what Galadriel meant when she said, 'Gandalf the Grey is dead; I beg you to bring him here so that he may once again walk among the living, albeit in another guise'. Thought it was the usual enigmatic Galadriel speaking, but apparently there was more to it than that."

Aloud, Gwaihir invited Gandalf to climb up between his wings, but the wizard feared that he would not have the strength to hold on. So the eagle lord carefully picked up the wizard in his talons and winged his way to Caras Galadhon, where he left Gandalf in the care of Celeborn and Galadriel.

It took several days of gentle nursing at the hands of Galadriel, but at last Mithrandir was restored, although 'Gandalf' did not return until much later, when the wizard encountered Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli in the Forest of Fangorn. As for Gandalf the _Grey_, he was never seen again. But do not mourn. For from that time onward, the wizard rode throughout Middle-earth as Gandalf the White, and he was more powerful than ever before.

So Legolas proved to be right. Gandalf's story did not end with his fall into Moria. It went on. Yes, it went on, and, Reader, it goes on to this day.


End file.
